


After Hours

by akh



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-14 00:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akh/pseuds/akh
Summary: Tumblr prompt: Julia/David - professor/student AUThere's no plot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm transferring this from tumblr to here for convenience. Sorry in advance about the garbage that you can still turn away from. If you do read it and hate it, remember that nobody hates this story more than me.

“David Budd,” she reads the next name out loud and looks up from her list to the sea of students in front of her to find a face to match the name.

“Aye.”

Julia’s eyes pause on a man quite unlike her usual brood of fresh-faced young students who barely look up from their laptops or phones when their names are called. His blue eyes stare back unflinchingly and as Julia drops her gaze to his desk, she sees nothing on it but a pen and an empty notepad. The man, still young but clearly much older than the rest of her new class, seems to be of an altogether different breed.

How he chooses to conduct his studies is, of course, no concern of hers as long as he does the work she requires from all of her students.

  


***

  


Two weeks later, Julia finds her unusual student waiting for her outside of her office long after the last class of the day.

“I’m late for a meeting,” she says tersely, unprepared for David Budd’s sudden appearance.

“May I walk with you?” he asks, and before Julia can reply, he has already fallen into step beside her.

“I don’t see why not since you already are,” she replies dryly. “My office hours are marked on the door, you know,” she remarks after a beat, hoping he can take the hint when planning any future encounters.

“Aye,” he replies in his thick, Scottish accent. “I’m sorry but I had to pick up my kids from school and I missed the time window.”

Kids. Julia’s step falters. “You have a family?” she asks. Of course he does. He is older than most of her students. Why wouldn’t he have a family?

“Aye,” he replies. “A boy and a girl.”

“And a Mrs. Budd?” Julia asks, biting the inside of her cheek. It’s just a friendly question, she tells herself. She is only making conversation.

“In a manner of speaking, ma’am,” he replies. When Julia glances at the man, she finds him looking at her in a way that suddenly makes the corridor feel warmer than it should in October. “We are separated,” he explains.

Julia lets out a strangled noise and then nods as she continues to walk. “Ms. Montague will do, you know,” she says at last, deciding that the state of Mr. Budd’s marriage is really no concern of hers. “Nobody calls me ‘ma’am’ here.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am…Ms Montague,” he replies, running a hand through the back of his head. “I was in the army for many years,” he offers by way of explanation.

_Well, that explains his age,_ Julia muses. _'And a number of other things.'_ She lets her eyes scan his body briefly from head to toes and then fixes her gaze firmly ahead without making any further attempt at conversation.

“That’s actually why I’m here,” he continues after a beat.

Julia glances at him again but waits for him to elaborate, not quite sure why his time in the army would bring him to her office door at this hour, or at all.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done any of this and I feel like a fish out of water,” he explains after a brief silence punctuated only by the clicking of Julia’s heels. She takes in his explanation with increasing confusion.

“You don’t even major in Political Science,” she replies at last. So what if she had looked him up after the first class? “You should try to find a tutor in your own faculty to help you catch up.”

“Aye, you’re probably right.” He slows his steps and reluctantly Julia does the same, glancing at her watch a little impatiently.

“It’s just…” he starts again, looking a little hesitant. “It’s not really the subject itself but the methods of studying. I fear mine might be a little outdated.”

Julia cannot disagree, but it’s still hardly any concern of hers. “Well, if you want my advice, you should get a laptop,” she says after a brief consideration, starting to walk again. “Most of your work across all faculties will be done digitally and if you ever submit anything hand-written to me, I will get myself a dog for the sole purpose of having him eat your work.”

She hears him chuckle behind her and tries to bite back her own smile.

“Understood, ma’am…Ms. Montague,” he calls after her, no longer following on her footsteps.

Julia lets out a breath and very deliberately does not glance behind as she rounds the corner. She is, after all, late for a meeting.

  


***

  


Next week David sits down in the front row, laptop ready on his desk when Ms Montague walks in. He keeps his eyes on her until she meets his gaze. As soon as she does, he points subtly at his new laptop and sees an almost imperceptible smile form briefly on her lips before she turns around to write something on the blackboard. She doesn’t look directly at him again.

At the end of the lecture he lingers behind, slowly putting away his things as the other students file out of the room, one by one. Eventually, when only he remains in his seat, he stands up and takes the few steps required to reach Ms. Montague’s desk. She appears to be busy packing away her own items but she looks up when he approaches.

“Ah…David, isn’t it?” she says, looking a little flustered, and David isn't sure whether the uncertainty is for show or if she is truly struggling to recall his name. “Or do you prefer Dave?” She pauses and peers at him over the rims of her glasses before taking them off entirely. David bites the inside of his cheek. “You never know with students these days,” she sighs as she turns away, seemingly unaware of the effect she has on him. “I have a post grad whose name is Robert, which is a perfectly good name if you ask me, but no, he wants to be called Rob.”

Before David can get in a word, Ms. Montague continues her ramble that seems to be quickly turning into a vent.

“I suppose the name suits him, really,” she says as she puts her reading glasses in their case and shoves them into her bag. “Short and simple, just like he is,” she mutters and then looks at David as if suddenly remembering she is not alone. “Sorry, I should not have said that,” she adds a little sheepishly. "If you know Rob MacDonald, then I definitely didn't say that," she continues under her breath.

David tries to hide his smile as he makes a mental note never to get on Ms. Montague’s bad side. Not that he had ever intended to.

“Well, I answer to both,” he says at last. “David or Dave,” he clarifies when she looks confused for a moment.

“Ah, yes, of course,” she picks up quickly, remembering her question that had launched her own soliloquy. She pauses, looks at David for a moment, and then continues clearing her desk. “Did you want something?” she asks, apparently deciding to change the subject.

_'You, probably,'_ David thinks as he watches Ms. Montague’s hair fall to her face as she gathers her papers into a folder and then shoves that too into her bag. She is tall and good looking to an almost intimidating degree - but right now appears more flustered and less cool and aloof than she usually does during lectures, and somehow that little chink in her armour only seems to render her more attractive. David brushes the thought quickly aside.

“Nothing, really,” he says a little hesitantly. He points at his bag. “Got the laptop as you suggested.”

Ms. Montague looks him up and down. “Yes, I saw,” she says, her familiar aloofness returning as she starts pulling on her coat. “I hope it will prove useful.”

David nods and their eyes meet for a moment over the desk. He has half a mind to ask Ms. Montague if she would like a coffee but the suggestion, though innocently meant, feels inappropriate.

“I’m sure it will,” he replies, starting to move slowly towards the door. There he pauses and looks at the big clock on the wall. It’s late. “Can I walk you anywhere?” he suggests hopefully.

Ms. Montague is already walking towards the door. She pauses in front of David and gives him a once-over. Then she brushes past him into the corridor.

“Thank you, but I know my own way out,” she says before walking away. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  


***

  


It’s becoming a little distracting: David Budd with his blue eyes, broad shoulders and occasional, slight stubble sitting in the front row at the start of every class. Julia tries not to look at him whenever she can avoid it, but when he puts up his hand and starts asking questions in the middle of the lecture, her decision to ignore him becomes a little harder to follow through with.

Besides, his questions are usually infuriatingly good, sparking discussions that sometimes wake up even the sleepiest students in the back row. He is often blaringly wrong, of course, but still, Julia has done this long enough to appreciate the variation that a lively discussion can bring to a lecture that without student participation would consist only of her own monologue.

At the end of yet another lesson filled with David’s almost incessant questions, she waits for the other students to leave while he, as usual, lingers behind.

“Have you ever considered switching majors?” she asks without preamble once they are alone, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. “You seem more interested in this subject than most of my students.”

He rises from his seat and walks up to her desk, his sudden nearness making Julia instantly regret bringing up the subject at all, even in jest. Having David Budd in her class once a week is bad enough. The last thing she needs is that man in her own faculty, under her supervision and tutelage.

In the meanwhile, he seems to be considering her words. “I can’t say that I really have,” he says at last. “Perhaps it’s not the subject so much as the professor that I find fascinating,” he adds after a beat, his lips curving slightly.

Julia looks up at him in surprise and then bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from replying, in equal measure annoyed and turned on by his easy confidence. She is used to having students harbour crushes on her, both male and female, and there is something gratifying in knowing that, should she wish to, she could have her way with someone twenty years younger than herself any day of the week.

But of course she has never wished to, and none of her students are usually bold or stupid enough to even suggest it. She generally prefers men of her own age anyway, but then David Budd is only ten years younger and there is something about him that gives him a maturity beyond his years. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear I haven’t repelled you,” she drawls after a long silence, holding David’s gaze, reclaiming her upper hand.

“I assure you haven’t, Ms. Montague,” he replies as their eyes remain locked. “Far from it.”

Julia continues to look at him for a moment and then suddenly cocks her head to the side, in the direction of the door. “I think that’s enough now,” she says coolly, watching with some degree of satisfaction as the somewhat self-assured smirk disappears from his lips. “Off you go then. I still have work to do.”

She leans forward on her desk and flips open her laptop to signal that this conversation is over.

“I’m sure there is some lovely student party you can pop into for company,” she says, no longer looking at David. “I bet those young ladies will love a soldier,” she mutters absently.

Just as she is about to start focusing on the essays she has to mark, she hears David’s retreating steps pause somewhere halfway between her desk and the exit.

“And if I’m not interested in the young ladies…” he says slowly. “Any tips on what would work on someone older?”

Julia freezes for a moment and then turns slowly to look at him. He looks surprisingly serious.

“I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” she says at last. She lifts her pen and twirls it between her fingers as she watches him go, allowing herself for just a moment to entertain the thought of him and his cheeky tongue between her thighs.

_‘Shit,’_ she mutters to herself as she gets up and walks through the now empty classroom to lock the door after David is gone. She pauses for a moment and then starts walking back towards her seat, fingers finding the buttons of her trousers.


	2. Chapter 2

David is sitting on a bench near Professor Penhaligon’s office, typing up an essay on his laptop, when his eyes chance upon Ms. Montague striding down the corridor, her heels clicking angrily on the polished floor as she sweeps past him. David is about to raise his voice in greeting but then realises she hasn’t seen him at all, her eyes having zeroed in on the door of Penhaligon’s office long before she reaches the handle and yanks at it with force.

“What the _fuck_, Roger?” David hears her indignant voice as she barges into her colleague’s room. Then the door slams shut behind her and everything that follows becomes muffled, impossible to hear.

David tries to bring his attention back to his essay but his eyes keep darting towards the door some distance away that remains firmly shut. One time his head shoots up as he thinks he hears the door rattle as if someone had tried to push it open without turning the handle, but nothing happens and the door still remains shut. Before David can dismiss the sound entirely, however, it’s suddenly repeated again, first once, then twice, and then a number of times more. He is almost ready to stand up and go knock on the door to make sure that everything is alright when the sound stops as suddenly as it had started and everything seems to fall quiet again.

A few more minutes pass without David even pretending to focus on his work anymore and then finally the door flings open and Julia steps out, pulling at the hems of her suit jacket and then adjusting her hair that, as David notes, looks unusually disheveled. 

Her gaze falls on David while her hand is still brushing through her waves and she freezes as their eyes make contact, notably startled to find him sitting so close.

“Ms. Montague,” he says by way of greeting.

She collects herself quickly. “David,” she returns coolly. She glances back at the door to Mr. Penhaligon’s office and then at David as if measuring the distance between the two.

“Must have been a heated meeting,” David says, using her moment of indecision to strike up a conversation. “Your top buttons,” he points out with a barely concealed grin as Ms. Montague’s hand flies up to her blouse that has at least two or three of its top buttons undone. 

“Shit,” she mutters, deftly fastening the offending buttons.

David watches her for a moment, certain now that the suspicion he had tried to dismiss is actually correct. He clears his throat.

“I’m sure nobody else heard or saw anything,” he says a little awkwardly.

She looks at him sharply. “_You_ didn’t hear or see anything either.” Then her shoulders seem to relax and she lets out a deep sigh. “You don’t happen to smoke do you?”

David frowns and then shakes his head.

“Too bad,” she exhales. “I could have used a cigarette,” she adds in a husky voice that makes David wish he were Roger Penhaligon.

“That good, huh?” he asks, trying to hit a casual note but knowing he has failed as soon as the words leave his lips.

Ms. Montague looks at him for a moment, her eyes darker than usual. It strikes David that she doesn’t actually look particularly satisfied. She doesn’t say anything in response but motions him wordlessly to get up and follow. David quickly shoves his laptop into his bag and they walk in silence through the corridor and then out through a back exit that he assumes only the staff is allowed to use. They walk a little further out and then finally Ms. Montague pauses and turns to David.

“Do you know we were married once?” she asks in her straightforward way. “Roger and I.”

David shakes his head. He had actually wondered if she was or ever had been married.

“It didn’t last because he suffers from the incurable condition of being an absolute prick, but unfortunately we’re both still stuck teaching at the same university,” she goes on to explain. David imagines that if she had the cigarette she had wanted, she would be taking a long drag on it right about now.

“We clash often and, regrettably, it sometimes boils over,” she continues, “but you shouldn’t have seen or heard any of that.”

“I can keep mum,” David assures her quickly.

“I’m sure you can,” Ms Montague replies with a sigh, tilting her head as she studies him. “You don’t seem like one for much gossip,” she notes and then pauses for a beat as if carefully considering her words. “I just don’t want to give the impression that I routinely storm into my colleagues’ offices to have sex with them in the middle of the day, ex-husband or not.”

David swallows, the thought of her engaging in said activities are suddenly making his jeans feel uncomfortably tight.

“What happened today then?” he asks, trying to focus on the conversation.

“Politics,” she sighs. “Chancellor Vosler is retiring soon and Roger knows I’m angling for his position.” She pauses and looks at David as if deciding if she should continue. Finally she does: “This morning I received a memo originating from his office in which he all but directly threw in his support behind the sniveling Mike Travis instead of me.”

She pauses again and then huffs indignantly. “He knows as well as anyone that Mike doesn’t have half of my qualifications, but then that doesn’t really matter to Roger because he is doing it just to spite me.” All the while Ms. Montague speaks, her voice remains quiet and measured but David can hear the growing indignation in her tone.

“The memo to the staff is utter rubbish of course and does nothing but announce his continued status as a grade A idiot,” she continues scornfully, “but I know he will try to influence the board in some way too.”

David takes in the load of information, surprised but also pleased with Ms. Montague’s unexpected candour.

“Can he do that?” he asks, lifting his hand to touch her arm.

Ms. Montague looks at his hand and then shrugs it off.

“I don’t know but he will try,” she sighs. “He can’t bear the thought of having to work under me,” she mutters to herself and then looks at David again, her expression changing, her entire demeanor closing off. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m burdening you with all this. You should go and finish whatever work you were doing and forget this ever happened.”

When David doesn’t move, a look of exasperation crosses her face and she shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she mutters and turns to leave.

David watches her take a few steps and then springs to action, deciding to follow his gut.

“Julia,” he calls after her, risking the use of her given name.

It seems to have the desired effect as Julia stops dead in her tracks.

“If you’re not busy, I’d like to take you somewhere off campus,” he says boldly, bridging the distance between them.

She turns to look at him when he reaches her side. “Now?” she asks, a little uncertain.

“Now,” he replies, giving her a pat on the back.

***

Against her better judgement, Julia goes in to change her shoes and pick up her coat and then follows David out of the campus without knowing where they are going.

“You know I have a class in two hours,” she points out after they have walked for fifteen minutes without either of them saying much. “If you wanted to take me out for coffee, we already passed the Costa and the Nero.”

“Who said anything about coffee?” David replies, his tone a little smug. Then, growing more serious, he looks at Julia, his face earnest and reassuring. “We’re almost there and you will be back with time to spare, I promise.”

Julia continues to eye him suspiciously, second-guessing her decision to follow him, but then figures that since she has already been lured this far, she might as well see where the road goes. Besides, she cannot deny that merely the brisk walk in the crisp autumn air has already made her feel better than she had felt before taking off. Her mind is less on Roger and his pathetic games, and more on David and whatever it is he is planning to do with her. She bites her lip as she lets her mind wander into activities that she really shouldn’t be encouraging even in her imagination and then shakes her head to banish the thoughts. Roger would have a field day if he knew what and who had been on her mind when she had let him pound into her against his office door less than half an hour ago.

She throws a sideways glance in David’s direction and then finally schools her thoughts into safer territory by taking a look around and trying to guess where they might actually be going. She doesn’t have to wonder long. They round a corner and suddenly Julia can feel David’s hand graze the small of her back as he points towards a window just slightly ahead of them.

“We’re here,” he says, slowing his steps.

They soon come to a complete halt in front of an establishment that says “Andy’s Boxing” in large, simple letters on the front. Julia raises her eyebrows.

“You’re joking,” she says. It’s a statement rather than a question but when she looks at David, she can see that despite the little quirk of his lips, he appears to be quite serious.

“You seemed like you could use an outlet for letting off steam,” he says, opening the door and holding it for Julia.

She looks at him curiously.

“Is this where _you_ come to ‘let off steam’?” She lifts her fingers up to form quotation marks in the air. Then she looks at David and steps a little closer, their breaths visibly mingling in the cool air. “Or is this just where you bring all the girls you try to pull?”

She doesn’t wait for David to answer - isn’t quite sure what she would want to hear him say anyway - but tilts her head slightly and then steps past him into the building, surveying the space that opens before her eyes. It certainly isn’t what she had expected, but now that she is here, she finds herself not entirely untempted by the prospect of getting to punch something in lieu of Roger Penhaligon’s smug face.

She hears David shuffling in behind her and then feels his hands on her shoulders, helping her out of her coat. 

“Cosy,” she mutters as she casts her eye more closely around the gym. It’s not very big but there is room enough for a boxing ring in one corner and a few punching bags of different sizes dispersed around the rest of the space. Apart from one pair dancing around each other in the ring, and another man watching them, there seems to be no one else in.

The man on the side of the ring turns around at the sound of the new arrivals and Julia is a little taken aback by the sight of his badly burned face when their eyes make contact. She collects herself quickly however, and watches without comment as David steps forward to greet the man that he clearly knows well. The two men exchange a few words and David then introduces the apparent proprietor as Andy Aptsted, his former brother in arms.

When it comes time to introduce Julia, she registers the surprise on the man’s scarred face as he turns to look at her and she wonders briefly if David has talked of her before, or if is it simply her completely unsuitable outfit and comparative age that gives cause for the raised eyebrows. She certainly feels rather out of place herself.

“So _you_ are the…” Andy starts but David quickly interrupts him.

“What Andy is saying is that of course we can stay for a little while and I can show you how to punch,” he says, looking at Julia and then giving Andy a pointed look.

“Wouldn’t dream of saying anything else,” Andy replies, raising his hands, and Julia wonders at the look that the two men exchange. She tries to catch David’s eye but he seems to be purposely avoiding her gaze, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed as he mutters something about going to pick up his equipment.

“What was that all about?” Julia asks after David has disappeared into the locker room.

Andy looks a little uncomfortable, perhaps not wanting to betray his friend’s confidence.

“Nothing really,” he evades, looking at the closed door of the locker room. Then he looks at Julia again. “It’s just that...after his separation, he hasn’t really talked about any women other than his ex,” he continues, his eyes drifting from Julia back in the direction of the locker room. “Then he went back to university and suddenly there seemed to be this university professor that he kept mentioning a bit more often than I reckon one usually would talk about a teacher.”

Julia swallows, not quite sure how to take this nugget of information.

“You’d be surprised how much students talk about their professors,” she tries to laugh it off, not wanting to read too much into Andy’s words.

“Well, I’ve never seen him bring any of his other professors here,” Andy shrugs, turning to look at her again. “And I imagine most of them don’t look like you,” he adds, turning to go. “But that’s just my take,” he quips as he leaves Julia to her thoughts.

She bites the inside of her cheek as he watches the man walk back towards the ring where the other pair is still sparring. She doesn’t have time to ruminate on his words, however, before the locker room door opens and David walks out carrying a pair of gloves and what looks like some kind of bandaging. He has removed his jacket and jumper, too, and Julia’s tongue flicks out to lick her lips as she takes in the view that his form-fitting t-shirt offers.

When David looks up, she quickly averts her eyes and starts shrugging off her blazer, now feeling David’s eyes on her in return.

“I’m really not dressed for this at all,” she mutters as she hangs both her coat and her blazer on the only coat rack she can see and then steps towards David, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt.

David’s eyes snap from her arms to her face and his lips twist into a slight smile. “You’ll be fine,” he assures her. “I’ll just show you what to do and you can deliver a few punches and then come back better prepared another time...if you wish, of course.” He drops the gloves to the ground and starts untangling the bandaging. Julia eyes it suspiciously.

“What’s that for?” she asks, ignoring the implication that she might wish to come back.

“It’s a hand wrap, to protect your wrists and fists,” he explains. “Here,” he reaches for Julia’s hand and she lets him pull it towards himself. “I’ll show you.”

Julia holds her breath as he slowly turns her palm up, his fingers grazing her skin.

“Is this all necessary?” she asks impatiently, trying to focus on anything but the touch of David’s fingers on the palm of her hand.

He looks up, half smiling, half serious. “Very necessary,” he says, picking up the hand wrap and starting to roll it around her wrist and knuckles with a speed that seems deliberately slow.

“You’re being very thorough,” Julia points out after a while. She’s not sure if it’s meant to be an accusation, a question, or a simple observation. She feels David tug at the tail of the wrap and then fasten it in place.

Then he looks up at her face again and Julia wonders how this is supposed to not end with the two of them getting tangled in these blasted wraps and other pieces of clothing later in the locker room.

“Just trying to avoid any injuries,” he says after a pregnant pause, letting go of her wrist and then holding out his hand again. “We still need to do the other one.”

“Oh, do we?” Julia asks pointedly but allows David to reach out for her other hand as well, starting the same ritual anew. She bites the inside of her cheek and watches without a word as David repeats the same tantalisingly slow process around her wrist and knuckles again, his blue eyes occasionally flicking to her face to ascertain he is not pulling at the wrap too hard. 

When he is finally done, he lifts both of her hands to examine the results of his work, and then looks up at Julia, eyebrows raised.

“Not too tight?” he asks.

Julia turns her wrists and wiggles her fingers. “They still move,” she says at last, trying to focus her thoughts on Roger and how much she would like to punch him.

“Good,” David says, picking up the gloves. “Then we add these and we’re ready.”

The gloves feel surprisingly heavy in Julia’s hands, but she welcomes the distraction, curling her fingers inside them to get a firm grip and then tapping her gloved hands against each other.

“Do I finally get to hit something?” she asks sardonically. “Or are there more parts of me you want to wrap before allowing me near those bags?”

David clears his throat and casts his eyes down for a moment. Then he steps closer, deep into Julia’s space and whispers into her ear: “Maybe you should ask if there are parts of you I would like to unwrap.”

Julia closes her eyes and draws a quick breath, swallowing the answer she would like to give him. Then she opens her eyes and gives David the most withering glare she can muster, afraid that it’s not nearly as withering as it ought to be.

“In your dreams, Budd,” she breathes into his ear before stepping away from him. “Just give me something to punch.”


End file.
